By Lamplight
by magistrainartis
Summary: Three friends have three days to receive what they need.


Ignis hadn't been to an establishment like The Lamplight in years. As a young man from a noble house, he'd been expected to partake in the opportunities offered by such places once he came of age. Many had assumed the establishment to be nothing more or less than a royal brothel, but the services offered were far more complex. Members of the Lucian royal houses were under constant demand; places like The Lamplight offered respite. On first visit, Ignis had been amazed that two nights could provide such relief from the incessant demands of his studies and his increasing responsibilities. Being groomed as the king's advisor and chamberlain from birth was more taxing than Ignis allowed himself to express. Prioritizing his prince above himself left little time to pursue his own interests and desires.

That time seemed long ago. Noctis had been missing for months and showed no sign of reappearing soon. Night had fallen, and the entire world shared a taste of the darkness that had overtaken Ignis' world. He'd mourned the loss of his sight in private, not wanting to hear pity in his friends' voices. It was bad enough to hear their concern, even admonition, and to know that his disability hindered the group.

Ignis had hoped he'd adjust more quickly, but he still missed his friends' faces. He missed the smooth control he'd once wielded over his chef's knife and his daggers. He missed taking notes to read by firelight each night. He missed the man he'd been, and had no idea who he was now supposed to become.

The trip to The Lamplight had been Gladio's idea. When he'd heard that the former proprietress of Crown City's royal brothel had relocated to Lestallum, he'd insisted the three take the opportunity to visit. Prompto had been hesitant, but was obviously curious; Gladio had assured the less experienced man that he wouldn't have to do anything that made him uncomfortable, and that sex was only one possible pastime for the weekend.

Ignis had agreed to come out of habit. He remained completely reliant on his cane and his friends to make his way in unfamiliar places. If he'd decided not to join the others, he would have remained alone at The Leville for three days. The fear of opening his eyes not only to darkness, but to loneliness, was unbearable. He'd indulge himself with the others, and for a few days remove from his mind the challenges that lay ahead.

The trio had barely entered The Lamplight when the proprietress swooped down on them. Ignis smiled as he felt soft arms encircle his chest. Madame Flos - Flossy to those who knew her - was at least three times his own age, a full foot shorter than himself, and nearly as wide as she was tall. She'd personally interviewed himself and Gladio before their first visits to her establishment, and prided herself on taking care of the young prince's retinue. Her professional function never clashed with her motherly bearing, and Ignis wished he could see the smile he knew shone on her face.

Flossy pulled back from the embrace and clasped Ignis' hands. "Oh my dear boy. Your poor face." Without asking or hesitating, she removed Ignis' shaded glasses and ran her hands over his ruined eyes. "My boy...my boy," she murmured as she caressed his scars, "what mess have you gotten yourself into?"

Quick as thought, the concern in her voice switched to laughter. "You've made my job far more difficult, you know. Now I can't just trot out a handsome well-built man and expect him to dazzle you at first sight!"

Ignis smiled, "Was my head that easily turned, Flossy? I suppose it's time I made you work for your living."

Flossy quickly hugged him close once more before turning to the others. She exclaimed over Gladiolus' physique and offered to put him to work, at which Gladio laughed appreciatively. She then took to Prompto like a mother chocobo to a chick. The young man relaxed despite himself, and was soon laughing freely at Flossy's jokes.

Ignis ignored the conversation. The perfume in the air and the carpets underfoot reminded him greatly of Flossy's former establishment. But nothing was the same. In the past, he'd always taken advantage of the brothel's sexual offerings. He hadn't been with a man in months, not since commencing his journey with the others, and certainly not since losing his eyes. He had no idea how to proceed, or if he'd even be able to. He felt so vulnerable without his sight that putting any trust in a stranger suddenly seemed impossible. His breathing quickened and he tightened the grip on his cane, desperate to appear nonchalant.

Ever perceptive, Flossy took control. With a quick ring of a bell, she summoned attendants who whisked Ignis' friends away. Flossy took Ignis' arm gently and led him through the front of house into what he assumed was a sitting room. He found himself seated in a comfortable straight-backed chair, and Flossy made small talk as she settled herself directly across from him.

Then silence. Ignis hadn't known Flossy was capable of being quiet. He was about to speak when Flossy took the cane from his grasp and clasped his hands in her own. Without asking permission, she gently removed Ignis' gloves. As the leather slid over his skin, Ignis' throat tightened. Not long ago he'd worn the gloves to chauffeur his friends; now he wore them so his hands wouldn't be torn to pieces from the many times each day he tripped and fell.

Flossy's simple, calculated act broke the wall Ignis had carefully built around his emotions. Months of bottled grief and frustration poured out in ragged gasps. His chest pounded and his throat burned; the darkness seemed more impenetrable than ever. Flossy sat quietly through it all as her warm, firm touch anchored Ignis in his panic. After a few moments, he pulled himself back to stability and gripped her hands in a wordless gesture of thanks.

"Alright," Flossy said, dropping Ignis' hands and patting his left cheek, "To business!" Ignis recovered as quickly as he'd broken, aided by the tumbler of cold water Flossy pressed into his hands and the cool washcloth she ran over his face.

When she was satisfied with her work, Flossy rose and pressed the cane back into Ignis' hands. "Give me a moment, dear. You're free to roam as long as you don't trip and break my furniture." The smile in her voice was mirrored on Ignis' face as he assured Flossy he'd try not to destroy her parlour, and she swooshed away to prepare his experience.

Half an hour seemed like eternity as Ignis sat in the dark, nervously folding and unfolding his cane. When he heard two sets of feet pad toward him over the carpeted floor, he started. Reflex made him rise to greet the new arrival, with whom he was intended to spend the next two nights. Typically, the escort would simply smile through Flossy's introduction and would wordlessly lead Ignis to his chamber; talking was generally seen as a waste of time until the guest had settled into their chambers.

This evening, rather than waiting patiently behind the proprietress, the escort moved to Ignis' side and clasped his left shoulder. "Welcome, sir. It is my honour to serve the noble house Scientia." Ignis flinched. Considering that all reports claimed the nobility had suffered devastating losses in the attack on Crown City, it was more than likely he was the last member of his house. Seeing Ignis' pain, the escort's grasp tightened and his voice became kind: "All is not lost while members of the royal houses live and fight the darkness."

Maintaining his grasp on Ignis' shoulder, the escort took his elbow to lead him from the room. Flossy's perfume faded as Ignis and the escort made their way to an upper floor. They paused, and Ignis heard his host turn a key in a lock.

Ignis halted. "This is...a mistake, perhaps." His brow furrowed. "I don't know that I want to do this."

The escort again took Ignis' shoulder. "My name is Curan. Consider me your humble servant. I can serve in many ways, none of which will be forced upon you. If you wish to leave, simply tell me."

Ignis paused, and decided two nights with Curan would be preferable to two nights alone in the hotel. He nodded and allowed himself to be led into his chamber, where Curan dropped his grasp. "Allow me to help you change into more comfortable attire, sir." Though spoken as a servant to his master, it was not a request. Ignis smiled softly and shook his head. Flossy was renowned for giving her guests exactly what they needed. He was glad to be told what to do instead of issuing instructions and offering advice.

Disrobing before a stranger was surprisingly easy in the pitch darkness, even though Ignis knew Curan could see him by the crackling fire's light. Ignis felt a weight fall from him with each piece of clothing he removed. All his garments were intended for battle, even the charm around his neck and the bangle on his wrist. When he stood naked, he paused for a moment before slowly removing the dark visors that had replaced his spectacles some months before. Even though Curan helped him into a robe, Ignis felt more naked without the eyewear than without his clothing.

The escort seemed to understand. He moved to face Ignis and gently rested his fingertips on his guest's cheekbones. The fingers of Curan's right hand trailed into Ignis' hair. His left hand grasped Ignis' right and placed it on Curan's face. An invitation, after so long.

Now oriented to Curan's height, which was slightly less than his own, Ignis grasped the escort and pressed his mouth to Curan's. There was none of Ignis' usual finesse; his desperation for contact drove away all thoughts of seduction. His lips and tongue plundered the escort's mouth. Curan belonged to him for these two nights, and for that time Ignis would take what the world surely owed him.

As his mouth continued its rough exploration of Curan's, Ignis untied his robe and fumbled at the escort's clothing. Impatient with buttons and snaps, he growled in frustration. Ignis sucked and licked at the escort's mouth, savouring the taste of juniper and mint. He would take Curan quickly, would pull his head back, would look into his eyes—

With a sharp intake of breath, Ignis broke away. For the briefest second, he'd forgotten. The smack of reality made him reel in the darkness. Stumbling backward, he reached out for support and grasped only air; Curan caught and steadied him before he fell.

Ignis wanted to bolt. This had been a terrible idea. He wasn't ready. He might never be ready. He clutched his robe around himself, hurriedly re-tied the sash, and held out his right hand. "My cane, if you please."

Instead of cold metal, warm flesh pressed into his hand. Curan took his shoulder and wordlessly steered Ignis from the room. Perhaps his clothing had been taken to another room while he'd been distracted? Odd, but Ignis' relief at leaving overwhelmed his skepticism. Curan led him downstairs, around corners, upstairs. When they stopped, Ignis assumed he'd be met with an apology and his belongings. Instead, he was met with silence.

A moment passed before Curan spoke. "Tell me where we are."

Ignis frowned. He'd been about to ask Curan the same question. If this was a game, it was not a pleasant one. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Curan loosened his grip on Ignis' hand and moved behind him, placing a hand on each of Ignis' shoulders. "If you had your sight, you would know exactly where we are. Tell me."

This was getting to be too much. Usually eternally patient, Ignis snapped, "I _don't_ have my bloody sight, do I? I'm tired of your games and would like to go now _if you please_."

"Trust me." Curan's hands tightened on his shoulders, then loosened. Over and over they massaged until Ignis' breathing had calmed. When he sensed his guest's anger had faded, Curan spoke again, "What do you smell?"

Ignis sighed. "Mint and juniper berries. You're wearing some kind of perfumed oil. It seems stronger here."

He heard the smile in Curan's voice. "Correct. And very good! I'd thought you'd mistake juniper for pine."

Ignis smirked despite himself. "I don't cook with pine. Only the gods know how many times I incorporated juniper into a stew when I was running low on supplies."

Curan continued massaging his shoulders. "Now tell me what you hear."

"Water. Running water. Running over stones."

"So we must be outside?"

"No. It's too close in here. It feels like there are walls, a roof, keeping in the air. The air is too heavy for the outdoors, even in Lestallum."

"Good. Why would water run over stones inside?"

"The sound is…pleasant. I quite like it. It's been designed." Ignis inhaled deeply and let his hands spread. His fingers tasted the air. He undid his robe, and felt a damp warmth press against his cool flesh. "Steam. We're in the baths."

Curan laughed and thumped him between the shoulder blades. "Excellent!" He undid Ignis' robe once more and helped him remove the garment. "Your private bath, actually. I'd wondered whether you'd notice we'd circled back to your chambers."

"I should have noticed. I believe I could have if I'd paid more attention."

"Exactly. It will take time, but I have you for the next two nights. Let me help you." Ignis heard Curan's clothing fall to the floor. "Let me," Curan breathed.

He ran his hands over Ignis' body. "Let me." Softer now, as he led Ignis forward and guided him into the bath large enough for five men. "Let me." Even softer, as he helped Ignis lie back in the water.

" _Let me_ ," as he kissed Ignis' throat. As he trailed his tongue down Ignis' chest.

Ignis laid his head back and breathed deeply as Curan worked. Out of habit, Ignis closed his eyes so he could focus. He breathed deeply of the oil-scented water, whose aroma reminded him of crushing mint leaves between his fingers before making tea. The steam left minute droplets on his face. He felt them settle on his eyelashes, bead on his lips, and pool in the cleft at the base of his throat. As Curan moved over him, Ignis let his brow relax; the tension drained from his muscles.

Emboldened, Ignis reached forward. His hand found the back of Curan's head and pulled his face to Ignis' own. He kissed the escort slowly, deeply, with none of the desperation marking their earlier embrace. Inspired by the power of Curan's subtle touch, Ignis flicked his tongue softly against the escort's - a flutter replacing an assault. Curan's response was genuine as he eagerly returned the kiss. Water slapped against the tub and spilled onto the tile floor; the splashes provided undertones to the sucking mouths and ragged breathing.

When they had finished, Ignis brought his attention back to his surroundings. The scent of mint and juniper lingered in the air. Water continued to run over stones and into the bath. He felt the water lap against him as Curan shifted and then rose from the water. Without a word, he let the escort help him from the bath, dry him thoroughly, and wrap him once more in the luxurious robe. Curan hummed softly as he worked, providing a mild distraction and helping Ignis follow his movements with the sound.

The humming softened as he led Ignis to the main chamber and to bed. As he sank into the mattress, Ignis' exhaustion drained away. Curan remained close, his heat and scent providing comfort as his guest settled for a rest. Finally cared for rather than serving as caretaker, Ignis drifted into the darkness' embrace, finally looking forward to the days to come.


End file.
